


Are You Better Off?

by fictionplagued, shesaramblingriot



Category: Actor RPF, Chris Evans - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, American Politics, Asshole Chris, Chris is kind of a tame Hillary, Chris loves Mira, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Lots of Angst, Mira hates Chris, Mira is Bernie, No Donald Trump, Shameless Smut, Smut, but a Bernie at heart, but you still love him, fuck him tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-06-09 00:08:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6881230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionplagued/pseuds/fictionplagued, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shesaramblingriot/pseuds/shesaramblingriot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris loves Mira. Mira hates Chris. And they're both running for President of the United States of America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friends! So fictionplagued (aka @blushingbinch on tumblr) and I decided to do a collab!! We were inspired by this one shot on ao3 (http://archiveofourown.org/works/6032059) and everything just spiralled from there. Hope you enjoy a little bit of asshole Chris in the lovely environment that is scandalous politics.
> 
> P.S. Half of this is written by a Canadian so please excuse political errors.
> 
> Originally posted on my tumblr. (fuckyouevans.tumblr.com)

**_Present_ **

 

“You have one of two choices.” June was giving Mira a look. A look that made Mira nervous because it was that “I’m your campaign manager and you need to listen to me” look. 

“I’m listening,” she gave June a resigned sigh. 

“You come clean to Evans, tell him the truth about Keon, because frankly, he already knows so there’s no point in lying any further,” June stared her friend and presidential candidate down, willing her to see reason. “And you beg like hell that he doesn’t leak it to the press.”

Mira scoffed at the idea. “Beg him? Yeah, that’s not happening.” 

“Or, you could stick it out, have the fact you hired an escort to pretend to be your fiancé get out to the press, and your entire political career stomped out before it even starts.”

Slouching in her leather chair, she groaned, “I’m  _really_  not liking my options.”

“I told you hiring Keon was a bad idea.”

“Oh, fuck off, June, you know that I would never even have the slightest shot at this if I was a single woman running. Keon was a good call at the time,” Mira mumbled and June shrugged in response. “I just don’t know how that bastard figured it out.”

“Which bastard? Chris or his campaign manager?” 

“I meant Evans, but his manager, what’s her name, Orion? She’s a conniving snake too, so I suppose both.”

June stopped for a moment. “Honestly, it’s probably better that the Evans campaign found out and used it as blackmail. If Governor Martin did, we’d only find out through headlines tomorrow.”

“And like that’s worse? At least he wouldn’t be blackmailing me. He’s a dick but at least he’s not real competition, he’s just in the running to steal delegates away from me and Chris.”

“Mira, listen to me.” June sighed, rubbing her temples as she eyed her presidential candidate. 

“I  _have been_.” Mira snapped, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. 

“You need to make this go away, and I think your best shot is by appeasing Chris,” June held up a hand just as Mira started to protest. “Issue a public statement faking a break up with your fake fiancé, fire Keon, and if you get Chris’s trust and an agreement to back the fuck off, you’ll be fine—”

“I don’t fucking want to. If the prick wants to blackmail me, just let him. I don’t need to be at his sympathy or mercy.”

“If you plan on continuing through this campaign and even having a chance at the nomination, you better believe you’re at his fucking mercy.”

June was right and Mira knew that. 

“I hate this.”

“Me too, babe, me too.” 

-

She didn’t know why she was here. That was a lie, she did know. She didn’t know why she would do this to herself. That was also a lie. She knew. She needed to appease the devil.  
  
“Ms. Khanna? Mr. Evans is ready for you now. Just through these doors.“

“Of fucking course he is,” Mira whispered under her breath, standing up and smoothing down the lines of her dress pants.

Mira followed the woman through the glass doors and into an office. She had never been inside Chris’s office before, but she had seen the  _East Evans Tower_ enough in magazines and tabloids that she wasn’t surprised about the extravagance of it. It was spacious, tall ceilings with sparkling chandeliers and very little furniture, apart from a hard leather sofa and a few lamps. There was a large desk on the opposite end of the room and floor to ceiling windows behind it. He was staring out the glass at the twinkling lights of New York City, his chair turned away from the door, and a hand resting on his armrest, fingers playing with his lips.   
  
The woman cleared her throat.   
  
Chris turned around slowly, reaching his arms up above his head, casually stretching and releasing a groan. A patronizing grin spread across his face as he nodded for the receptionist to leave. 

Mira wanted to punch out his perfect teeth.   
  
“Ah. Mira. How good to see you,” he raised his eyebrows in a way that could only be described as mock-surprise. “You didn’t bring your fiancé?”  
  
“Shut up and get to the point, Evans.”  
  
“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?” He gestured at the sofa.  
  
Mira stayed rooted to her spot across the room, arms crossed, and seething.   
  
Chris merely shrugged, tossing his legs up lazily on his desk. “Suit yourself.”

  
  
**_3 months earlier_ **

 

“You come here often?”

“To galas hosted by politicians?” Mira asked the tall brunet who was practically hiding at the back of the banquet hall, half his body hidden behind a curtain. 

“Yeah.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. Looking away, she sipped her champagne and cleared her throat. “Yeah, I guess. Though this is the first one I’ve been to that has decent entertainment.”

“True, the band killed it.” The brunet stepped out of his practical hiding spot and closer to Mira. “So how’d you get in? Friend of the rumoured candidate?” 

“Something like that. You’re Chris right? Evans? You’re running as well?”

The brunet, Chris, gave her a cheeky grin. “Yeah, yeah. I am.”

“Ah. So you’re scoping out competition?” 

Chris chuckled, sipping his scotch to ease the nerves in his voice after being caught. “Something like that. If only she’d show up. I haven’t exactly seen who this other candidate is. All I know is she’s barely legal and a little too naive.” 

“Barely legal, huh?” Mira quirked an eyebrow. “You mean to be running?”

“Yeah. She’s what, 35, 36? Somewhere along those lines? A baby in this industry.” 

“You don’t find yourself sounding the least bit hypocritical with that? It’s not like you’re 85 or anything. Early 40s, aren’t you? Baby.” Mira countered.

Chris’s face flushed. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be talking. She  _is_  too naive though.”

“Oh really?” She asked curiously, “and why do you say that?”

“I’ve heard her policies are too idealistic. Too immature. The Republicans are gonna have a field day with all the shit they can pull on her.” 

“You sound hopeful.” Mira noted. “Tired of being called pretty boy by the GOP?” 

“You ask a lot of questions for someone I just met. Let me have a turn, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

Before she had the chance to answer, there was a change in the background music playing and a clinking of a glass. 

“Ladies and gentleman, my name is June Rous and it’s my pleasure to announce that former Attorney General of California, Mira Khanna will be running in this year’s presidential election, and I have the deepest honour of running her presidential campaign. Mira has worked as a civil lawyer for years and has worked both inside the political atmosphere of the state of California and served as the youngest Attorney General–”

“35? And accomplished all this shit?” Chris whispered in Mira’s ear.

“Yeah. You could say she gets shit done. Too idealistic though, am I right?”

He smirked playfully. “Maybe after she finally shows we can get out of here?” 

Mira snorted. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Could I get your number?”

“–Finally, Mira will you come on up here and give your last few comments on this tremendous feat? Mira Khanna, ladies and gentleman.” June finished into the mic.

“Here, pretty boy.” Mira reached into her clutch and pulled out a business card, tucking it in Chris’s suit pocket. 

As she turned away from him, she muttered just loud enough for him to hear, “Idealistic? My fucking ass, I’m not idealistic.” 

She confidently straightened her back and started walking, shaking hands with most everyone and smiling that perfect politician smile. 

It took about three point five seconds for Chris to realize he had deeply and utterly fucked up as the woman he’d just been blatantly flirting with grabbed the mic from June. 

Mira saw his face redden all the way from her spot on stage, smirking at the sight. “Thank you, thank you so much everyone for coming out. I’m so incredibly elated to finally have this campaign started!” 

As she spoke, she saw Chris slip out through the back door. 

 

_**Present**  _

 

“So, I guess first things first,” Chris started, leaning back into his chair. “Did you hire the escort as your fiancé to make yourself seem more mature? Or was it a sex thing? Powerful woman; that’s not exactly a trait many men drop their pants for.”

“Firstly, actually, if a man can’t get it up, it’s clearly their problem, not mine.” Mira scoffed and Chris raised his eyebrows at her. 

She cleared her throat, “Secondly, if a man feels emasculated by a strong woman, let’s see,” She started counting off on her fingers for emphasis. “That equates a fragility in their so called ‘manhood.’ Still  _their_  problem, not mine.”

“Anything else to say?” He fought a grin, amused by her irritation. 

“Thirdly, you’re a sexist pig.” She added spitefully. “And finally, no, actually I hired Keon for the same reason you grow out that nasty beard.”

Chris cocked an eyebrow. “Really? And do you care to elaborate on why that is?”

“Because your campaign team told you that you looked like a fucking frat boy without it. But that’s better than being prodded as pretty boy I suppose.”

“Fair enough,” he smirked, rubbing a hand over the scruff on his cheek. He sighed. “What were you really gonna do, Mira? Marry the poor guy, tie him down to you, and then what?”

“That’s it. I’d be running the country as President and he’d be free to do what he wants, so as long as we maintained our image.”

“Not a very well-thought out plan for someone who wants to be President of the United States, if you ask me. If  _Keon_  wanted an out, what would you do? Just issuing a statement of an amicable divorce wouldn’t cut it, the media would tear that shit to shreds in a fucking second.”

She scoffed, but he continued. “Or  _what_  if someone happened to leak that he was maybe, I don’t know, having an affair?” A smug leer stretched across his face. “I can see it now. You’d have Fox News headlines plastered left and right. ‘If the president can’t keep her husband satisfied, how does she expect to satisfy the needs of America?’”

“You’re such a misogynistic bastard I’m genuinely surprised you’re not running as a Republican.”

“I don’t think you’re really in any position to insult me.”

“If you were going to leak something to the press you would’ve done it already. Clearly you need something from me. Therefore I deduce that you know damn well you need me just as much as I need you not to leak this fucking nonsense.”

Chris thought for a moment, rubbing his beard and letting his campaign manager’s words wash over him once again.  _We got dirt on her and we need to use it._

 

**_One week earlier_ **

 

“We’re  _not_  fucking using it!” Chris yelled, slamming his fist down on his desk. 

Orion looked at him from her stack of papers, her eyes wide and angry. “Why the fuck not!?”

“We’re just…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, agitatedly pacing back and forth in his office. “We’re just  _not_.”

“Fine, so you’re okay with losing the election because you don’t have the balls to out a woman who’s been  _lying_  to the whole country?” 

“We won’t lose the election, because if  _you_  do your fucking job right, and don’t resort to bullshit tactics, I should have this in the bag.” He snapped.

“Why are you so adamant on fighting me and defending her? I’m trying to get you what  _you_  want, Chris!” 

He knew she was right. Orion was the absolute best in the business. But he simply couldn’t do that. Not to Mira. 

“I don’t want to win this unfairly.” 

“She’s the one not playing fair.”

“You know that’s not it. It’s not her fault that that’s the only fucking way she even has a chance at this. The fake fiancé  _is_  playing fair.”

“She got herself into this. If she knew she couldn’t win this election fairly, handle the pressure, or the backlash, she shouldn’t be running.”

“Listen, there’s no reason to fight dirty. I have experience and seniority over her,” Chris reasoned, trying to make it seem logical. 

Orion raised an eyebrow condescendingly, “Right, because she has no advantages. She’s a woman, she’s younger and she’s not white.”

He scoffed. “Technically, those aren’t advantages in America.”

“People, specifically Democrats, want change. She’s quite a shift from who’s in office right now,” she said pointedly and Chris sighed. 

“Okay, but…” He stopped abruptly, feeling frustration in the pit of his stomach. “We don’t need this bullshit. The numbers don’t lie, I’m still fucking ahead and as long as we keep that up, I can win.”

“You can’t even give me a real reason to  _not_  leak it!”

“We’re not fighting dirty!”

“She’s the one with the fake fiancé,” Orion reiterated. “Like that’s being honorable?” She crossed her arms over her chest, daring him to argue with that. And he couldn’t, he knew he couldn’t. 

“Let me talk to her.” He offered, finally. 

“What?”

“I’ll talk to her. Get her to… Back off a bit.”

Orion rolled her eyes. “That’s not gonna do shit.”

He tugged at his lower lip with his teeth. “I’ll see if I can get her to concede gracefully.”

“She’s not going to.”

“We can’t, Ri.” He sighed, looking up at her with pleading eyes. “We just can’t.”

“Oh no.” Orion’s eyes widened. “Oh…  _No_.” 

She paused and Chris knew she was analyzing all that had just been said. He knew she was putting everything together, hoping she was wrong, wishing that she’d read the situation incorrectly and that he would vehemently deny what she was about to say. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t lie to her. She knew already, so what was the point?

She took a deep breath, phrasing it as a question, practically begging for him to deny it. “You can’t have been stupid enough to fall in love with her?”

Chris didn’t look up, just stared at his desk, hearing her pace in her heels on the marble floor. 

Orion snorted, letting out an exasperated sigh. “You fucking idiot.”

 

**_Present_ **

 

Mira leaned forward, now up against his desk, a challenging spark in her eyes. “So tell me, Chris. What do you want?”

He sighed, looking up with hooded eyes, staring at her from his spot behind the desk. His face was drained of all playful emotion from earlier. 

He opened his mouth once, before closing it. Finally he swallowed and parroted Orion’s exact words because had they been his own, there would be no telling what he would say. “Concede by next week or we’re releasing the evidence that Keon Elliot was not only an escort, but one that you used government money to hire.”


	2. 2

Mira paced around her office, furiously, practically creating a rut in the floor under her heels. She had never felt so utterly claustrophobic, so trapped by her own mess. She felt helpless, completely stuck with no other option than to agree to Chris’s condition.

That stupid bastard. She felt like his fuckin’ prey, just waiting, alone and ensnared in a cage, for him,  _ the obvious snake, _ to decide when or how she would suffer.

That  _ stupid _ ,  _ smug _ fucking bastard. 

He had her. And she fucking hated the reality of it with every fiber of her being.

She'd stormed out of his office quite dramatically when he'd given her the ultimatum, slamming the delicate glass doors as forcefully as she could.  _ A week to concede _ , seven  _ fucking _ days to toss aside her future. This was her career, her dream.  _ Everything _ she'd done up to this point, everything she’d worked for towards this sole purpose, and he expected her to throw all of it away in seven fucking days? Fuck no. She couldn't possibly,  _ ever _ fathom doing that. 

Everything she’d done for the campaign had been done fairly, barring the fake fiancé. And the truth about the ‘government money’ situation was as simple as she was using grants she  _ earned _ during her time as attorney general. But the public wouldn't see it that way, Mira knew that much. It didn't matter to them that she sacrificed her personal life for the sake of creating a better country for the majority, for her beliefs that coincided with what truly helped people, when people so often wrote her off as an idealist. 

June had once told Mira she had a martyr complex. That she loved this country too much, so much that she was willing to sacrifice her personal life for the betterment of the nation. Mira had scoffed, shaking her head, and brushing it off as her unshakeable faith in America. 

She couldn't let Chris take that chance for change away, not from her, and more importantly, not from the American people.

So, instead, she was in her office pacing hopelessly in front of June, uselessly venting, “It's been two days. Two fucking days and I still have no plan.  _ We _ still have no plan.”

“You know what you have to do,” June replied as she peeled an orange distractedly. “We need to call Keon in. Explain what's going on, why we need to let him go-”

Mira ignored her and kept ranting, “God, and tomorrow’s the debate.” She said with an exasperated sigh. “I swear, I don't think I’m gonna be able to look at his stupid face without feeling the urge to break his fucking jaw.” 

“We just went through the mock debates this afternoon,” June interjected, her demeanor was evidently tired. “You have your opening and closing statement down to a T, your approval ratings have gone up and you have a spa appointment scheduled tomorrow morning. Focus on all that instead.”

“Instead of how much I hate his fucking guts?” Mira grunted, picking up an apple from the fruit basket. She glared at it. “Don’t you have any fucking comfort food?” June scoffed and Mira rolled her eyes. Angrily, she went on, “He's such an asshole. He knows he'd lose if he hadn't found this. Fuck, even his manager knows that. They really had to do some digging.”

June simply popped an orange slice into her mouth as she glared. “We took care of who revealed it to them. That's in the past, now we need to cover all our bases and fire Keon. We need you saving face on this.”

Pausing for a moment to contemplate this, Mira groaned. “You're right,” she agreed begrudgingly, tossing the apple between her hands. “But I still don't know how seeing Chris’s smug face and hearing his grating voice at the debate isn't going to-”

“Mira.” June said, sternly. “Your anger is going to fuck you over the second you bring it to the debate stage. You need to be calm and ready to show the country how serious you are about the issues we want to fix.”

“I’m as serious as a heart attack,” she snorted in reply. “The media knows me as a bitch anyway.” 

June softened only slightly. “You know why they call you a bitch. Because you don't just sit around and take their shit.” 

\----

“What the fuck do you mean I’m just supposed to just sit around and take his shit!” Mira whisper-yelled at June. It was after the first break of the debate and surprisingly, despite their earlier confrontation, Chris wasn’t posing much of a problem. It was her other opponent, Governor Bentley Martin, an old, white man probably getting up to his 200th birthday, who felt this incessant need to constantly make mildly sexist remarks.

“Because.” June insisted, letting Mira’s makeup artist through to touch up her concealer. “He’s phrasing them in such a way that they sound like compliments. Though backhanded, sexist and rude, the public’s just gonna see you get agitated and label you as an emotional, PMSing bitch.”

“I hate this shit. Fucking hate it.”

There was a buzzer that signaled their break time was almost up, and June gave Mira a weak smile. “You got this. Just hang in there.” 

Stepping back up onto the podium, Mira noticed Chris backstage arguing loudly with his campaign manager. She couldn’t make out any specific words, but he tended to speak with his hands so they were flailing everywhere. When another buzzer went off, indicating there was about thirty seconds before they were on air, she saw him throw his arms up in exasperation and march away from Orion. 

He looked ridiculously anxious. Mira had only ever heard rumours about his anxiety, but she could tell enough by his demeanor that he was definitely not in his element right now. He was still flushed slightly pink as the spotlight lit up, beads of sweat gracing his creased forehead, and Mira could hear his deep breaths all the way from her podium.

Governor Martin joined them next, giving Chris a curt nod and effectively ignoring Mira, to which she fought back an eye roll. 

Seeing the countdown behind the camera, Mira prepared herself for the sudden onset of lights and loud applause, indicating break was over. And as predicted, when the red light flicked on again to indicate they were in fact live, the stage was lit up within an instant.

“Good evening everyone, and welcome back to the Democratic Debate.” The moderator began. “To get started on the second half of our program, we have a question for Ms. Khanna, the former Attorney General for the state of California.”

Mira cleared her mind, focusing intently on the moderator and his question on healthcare. Since one of her major platforms was universal healthcare, she immediately knew what to say, stating the facts and her positions, receiving cheer after cheer from the audience. Up until once again, Governor Martin felt the need to shove his head where it didn't belong and blurt a fairly blatant sexist comment.   
  
“Clearly, Ms. Khanna, you disregard the amount of hard working high income earners who don’t wish to have their money spent on individuals who misuse the system.” Governor Martin felt the need to chime in. “Unlike you, not every high income earner is spending their money on fifty dollar lipstick.”   
  
There was a gasp from the moderator and a mixture of cheering and applause, tied together with shouts of discontent, boos and hollers.   
  
Since this had been a recurring theme throughout the debate, Mira was completely prepared, she waited for the audience to quiet down before opening her mouth to retaliate, but was taken aback to hear the voice that rung out through the crowd wasn't her own.   
  
“All due respect Governor, but I'm getting pretty tired of the blatantly sexist comments you've been snidely making all debate.” Chris snapped. “You're not bringing up how much my suit, or my tie was, or the pounds of gel the makeup department has dumped in my hair was. So, unless you have anything genuine to argue, how about you wait your damn turn and let her finish?”   
  
\----

“Have you lost your fucking mind?! What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Orion shrieked.   
  
“Maybe I fucking have!” Chris snapped. “I couldn't just stand there and let him continue bashing her and every woman, for that matter, with his backhanded compliments and bullshit!”   


“No! Stop talking.” She growled, sticking a finger up menacingly and stabbing him in the chest. “Unless the next words out of your mouth are ‘I'm sorry I fucked up, Orion,’ I don't want to fucking hear it. God, this is going to be a PR nightmare! And for what!?” Orion ranted. “Standing up for your  _ girlfriend!?” _   


“Keep your fucking voice down!” He hissed. 

Orion shook her head. “You're really fucking pushing it, Chris.” Taking an exasperated breath she swallowed hard before looking him dead in the eyes. “You pull shit like this again? And I fucking quit. So get it the fuck together, Jesus Christ.”

Mira only saw Orion stalk off, leaving Chris, running a hand over his face. 

She immediately hounded him. 

“So, what? First, you threaten me with my stupid fiancé and now you think you can just undermine me on stage?” 

Chris gaped at Mira, who standing there with her arms crossed and nostrils flaring and still looking beautiful as hell. “Woah, I was just defending you!”

“Why? What? You don't think I can stand up for myself? Because I don't fuckin’ need your pity or your praise—”

“I was being a good fucking person, so I don't know why you can't just thank me and move on.” He snapped, angry that having human decency was apparently just getting him yelled at tonight. 

“Thank you?  _ Thank you!? _ Not fucking likely! I know you have other motives, and know you'll sink just as low as Martin any day, you made  _ that _ perfectly clear so don't fucking play me, Chris.” 

“No one’s playing you, Jesus.”

“So who decided on that little stunt? You or that snake of a campaign manager?”   


“What stunt?” He sighed, exasperated.

“You know what the fuck I'm talking about.”    


“I really don't.”

“You're just…” Mira squinted up at him. “...Crafty.”    


“Excuse me?”   


“Yeah, you heard me.” 

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Crafty? Now listen, my mom's gotten me into some knitting, but I wouldn't say I'm that into the arts and crafts.” 

“You know what the fuck I  _ mean _ . You're slimy and I don't trust you one bit.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “You're oblivious.” 

“And you're a cunt.” 

\----

“What part of ‘you're a cunt’ says ‘yes, Chris, thank you for not leaking  _ my fake fucking fiancé _ to the press’? You're driving me  _ insane _ , Mira! Fucking insane!” 

“You know it was a stunt. Now he's polling better with women than  _ me!” _

“I know, but we still haven't gotten rid of the threat he poses. That's our priority, Mira.”

“So what do you propose we fucking do? Send him a fucking fruit basket?”

June’s eyes lit up. “Exactly!”

“Oh, fuck no.” Mira refused adamantly. 

“Oh, fuck yes! Just do it. Apologize.”

“I'm not sending the bastard a fruit basket!”

“Not a fruit basket, a gift basket!” June corrected and then added in with a meaningful look, “And an apology note.”

“I would rather fuck 70 year old Governor Martin.”

\----

_ Dear  _ ~~_ Chris, son of Satan _ ~~ _ Mr. Evans: _

_ Please accept this gift basket as a token of my most sincere apologies.  _

_ I still think you're a cunt. Don't really know what I’m apologizing for.  _

_ This chocolate is really good.  _

_ No the empty wrappers weren't me… Ignore them. I apologized. That's what counts.  _

_ Please don't leak shit. Pleeeeeeeeaaase _

_ See what you've done? Reduced me to begging. I'm infuriated. _

_ Anyway. _

_ Thanks. _

_ -M _

 

“Chris! Meeting starts in five, are you ready?”

“Yeah,” He called out, shoving the note into his left breast pocket, alongside a chocolate, thoroughly embarrassed at the dopey smile spreading across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, guys! We have a lot of ideas for this fic so let us know if you're enjoying it! Please leave comments, they totally make us write faster and more regular updates might be coming your way :-)


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